


Pig Mailman or Earth Men Are Easy

by srsly_yes



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Crack, F/M, Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-25
Updated: 2011-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srsly_yes/pseuds/srsly_yes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is in response to <a href="http://deelaundry.dreamwidth.org/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://deelaundry.dreamwidth.org/"><b>deelaundry</b></a>’s fic challenge for episode 7x12 "You Must Remember This." <em>House gave Wilson ten days to "get back into it." What happens when the ten days are up, if Wilson doesn't?</em> I have trouble following directions. This is the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pig Mailman or Earth Men Are Easy

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** [H]ouse is not mine and never will be, but somebody has to play with Wilson.  
> 

What had he agreed to? Ten days. He was up Shit Creek.

Restless, Wilson rotisseries onto his side in order not to disturb Sara cuddling on his chest, but as he had learned, she is attuned to his every thought and mood. The soft ball of fluff daintily alights onto the mattress alongside him, her marshmallow coat attracting the moonlight. Her purring increases to a delicate snarl while her body expands in girth and length. The lamb chop hind legs stretch into long luscious limbs. Her fur sprouts into tendrils, like vines on steroids, spinning into golden hair, flexing into curls, then relaxing into slack flax.

Wilson closes his eyes and sighs wearily. Sara’s flickering light display projects red and black against his eyelids. What he wants is sleep, not a floor show. “Not tonight,” he mumbles as his ears fill with the throbbing beat of, _Born to Be Alive._ “No disco. No Samber.”

“But I thought you liked my deluxe combo, Doctor James Evan Wilson?” comes a perky reply. A touch of Amber’s silky phrasing and Sam’s lilt rides below the surface.

“Not tonight,” he repeats. He needs to think.

The pulsing music and lights abruptly halt.

“Is this better?” Sara’s voice is husky, playful, and familiar. “How do you like me now, Doctor James Evan Wilson?”

Unable to resist, he opens his eyes. Tonight’s bedmate is a busty, brown-haired beauty. A duplicate of the barista he dumped last night. She smiles seductively at him.

Seven days have passed since he adopted his neighbor’s cat, Sara, or SARA, short for Shapeshifting AeluRoid Alien. His life underwent a cosmic change, and there’s a crater-sized sleep deficit where his mourning libido used to be. She's the Scheherazade of sex partners, transforming into Sam, Amber, a combination of the two, Gwyneth Paltrow, Scarlett Johansson and Daniel Craig lookalkes.

He could hardly turn down House’s boy’s night out with an honest explanation. Thank God Sara was in her feline form when House broke into his home the other day and not sitting naked in front of the big screen watching Nickelodeon.

Knowing House as well he does, saying he got laid won't convince him. House will demand proof. But how can he introduce humanoid Sara to him in ten days?

There are dozens of things to do to prepare her for a meeting with House. Buy her clothes for one thing, and teach her not to lick herself after she eats.

He releases another sigh. There’s nothing he can do at this late hour. His mind drifts toward the possibility of a night with Miss January, but the rattle of an aerosol can snaps him fully awake. Sara tugs his t-shirt past his nipples. They tingle as whip cream covers them.

* * *

“Off the dining table.” Wilson requests in a soft, but no-nonsense voice as he pulls his laptop onto his knees. He studies the glowing monitor. Sara’s jeans squeak over the wood. From the corner of his eye he sees her stand and roam around the perimeter of the room. There are two benefits living with Catwoman. He never has dusty surfaces or spiders.

She’s Scully today. Her red hair brushes her shoulders. The look is probably due to her finding his _X-File_ collection last night.

Wilson returns to the spreadsheet. His eyes focus on the grid. It’s almost make or break time. He had hoped to convince House he was seeing someone by smearing blonde hair all over his dark suit, but his scheme backfired. By the time he arrived at his office, the hair had turned to fur, spurring House to singsong about pants on fire. The only way to make him stop was by promising to treat House to dinner and meet his rebound girlfriend.

He’s down to three days, and his Pygmalion scheme is doing better than expected. Getting Sara to wear clothes had been easier than he dared hoped. As soon as she saw Jimmy Choo’s in the Vogue magazine he swiped from the doctor's lounge, she was willing to try on anything. Luckily for him, wearing high heels came naturally due to her ability to walk on her toes.

For the most part, she eats with utensils, however wiping her mouth on a napkin proves elusive. Wilson offers up a silent prayer. Maybe it won’t matter and she’ll refuse to eat. She turned up her nose at almost everything in his pantry, even the tuna.

Teaching her to read is out of the question. Three years instead of three days wouldn’t be enough time. SARAs learn by watching people and viewing copious amounts of television. Apparently most SARAs live with Nielsen families.

“We aren’t allowed to visit Earth until we pass an exam identifying all 1500 cable stations.” Sara explained to him with a touch of pride.

“How very dedicated of you.”

“You betcha. It cuts into our sleep time.”

His mind returns to the task at hand, typing X’s in cells, and adding a few notes. An uncharacteristic porcine sound interrupts his concentration.

He snags the laptop before it hits the floor in his haste to stand up. “Crap! What happened?” The Scully of his dreams is a 5’2” pig dressed in high heels and a postal uniform.

A hoofed appendage waves at him. “Didn't you want a pig mailman?”

“No!” Wilson presses his palms against his eyes to shut out the ghastly sight and recalls his recent thoughts. He removes his hands and takes a deep calming breath. “Pygmalion _not_ a pig mailman. Where did you get the uniform?

"I can conjure at will."

"Why didn't you share that information with me before I purchased all those clothes for you?" Wilson controls his exasperation. He doesn't want to chase the furry version of her around the loft like the last time he raised his voice.

"You didn't ask, and I was tired of off-the-rack."

"Can you change back?”

“You betcha. Would you prefer, Mulder?”

“Scully will do.” Wilson sinks back into the sofa cushions and deletes the spreadsheet.

He’s screwed.

* * *

  


Wilson flops on his couch exhausted. His neck muscles are still tied in knots. He exhales as if he’s been holding his breath all night.

The evening was a success.

House had agreed to meet them at a sushi restaurant of Wilson’s choosing—a stroke of genius on his part. The place bustled and the noise level disguised Sara’s purring when a bowl of miso was placed in front of her. With only a slight jog to her elbow she lifted the bowl to her lips and sipped. No one looked askance at her eating sushi with her fingers. House never raised an eyebrow, but at times Wilson intercepted an appreciative stare.

Besides looking fetching in a skimpy, black dress, Sara had insisted on customizing her image just for House. “Leave it to me, I know what he wants in a woman. I read his mind when he held me in my aeluroid form.”

And she did. She was Candice Bergen in _Carnal Knowledge_ , but with Cuddy’s coloring. He didn’t doubt that House was dazzled by her looks. He was too, as were most of the men and several women in the restaurant.

For once, House was challenged to keep up with someone who had more pop culture knowledge than he had. It was like watching Comcast squaring off with Time Warner.

As the dinner wound down, Wilson caught a mop up on aisle five before House noticed anything. Sara raised a cupped hand to her face and flicked her tongue to nip a piece of rice from her mouth. With the lightening speed of a Benihana chef, he dunked the corner of his napkin into his water glass, and wiped the residue from her face. House hoisted an eyebrow at what must have appeared to be an endearing gesture.

Bastet was protecting them. Before there were any more faux paws, Foreman called to report House's patient was having a seizure. Blood leaked from underneath her finger and toenails.

"The Fantastic Four never see what's right under their noses. Well, Taub has an excuse. It's time for me to solve the case." As House pushed back in his seat, it was Wilson’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Sara gave House a hug and a long, lingering kiss.

He didn’t know how he felt about that. Jealousy over Sara or…

  
“You're very quiet, Doctor James Wilson. Didn't the evening go as planned?”

Wilson hesitates whether to answer honestly or not. “You could have ruined everything when you kissed House.”

“Did I kiss incorrectly?” Little vertical lines furrow over her nose “That’s how earthlings kiss on the Lifetime Channel. That’s how we do it.”

“Think Disney Channel when you kiss my friends. Better yet, think CNN and shake hands.” He takes her in his arms and comforts her, and in return, he feels her soothing vibration against his chest. "It'll be all right."

“You’re still sad.” Sara says, her warm breath tickling his chin. Her soft hair rubs along his cheek as she lifts her head, nudges his lips with hers, encouraging them to open, and kisses him. Kisses him deeply, passionately, tenderly, as she has never done before.

A power plant zaps through his body as a rough, hairy cheek presses into his. His hands grip muscular arms as he holds Sara at arm’s length. Sultry Candice cum Cuddy is gone and House is in her place, a study in blue—jeans, shirt, and eyes. “Sara?”

“Yes.” The timbre is all House. “I’ve known ever since Doctor Gregory House broke into your home he’s the one that you want. I kissed him in order to study and replicate all his behavior patterns.”

Wilson feels a man’s sure hand grope his crotch.

“You’re excited by this transformation. Let's hurry to the bedroom.”

“I uh… wait. There’s one more lesson you must learn before we have sex.”

“What.” There are equal amounts of gravel and petulance mixed into the one syllable.

It's intoxicating.

“Call me Wilson.”

  


* * *

My thanks to [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=chocolate_frapp)[**chocolate_frapp**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=chocolate_frapp) for her suggestion to use the Greek root word for cat.

 **Aeluroid:** Belonging to, or having the characteristics of, the division Aeluroidea of Carnivora, comprising the feline and allied families; as an animal of this division.

[Born To Be Alive](http://www.nutsie.com/song/Born%20To%20Be%20Alive/65089?artist_id=1003472&album_id=1106198) by Patrick Hernandez.  



End file.
